This masonry is wondrous; fates broke itdo Livro de Exeter, poema anglo-saxão, autor desconhecido
courtyard pavements were smashed; the work of giants is decaying.
Roofs are fallen, ruinous towers,
the frosty gate with frost on cement is ravaged,
chipped roofs are torn, fallen,
undermined by old age. The grasp of the earth possesses
the mighty builders, perished and fallen,
the hard grasp of earth, until a hundred generations
of people have departed. Often this wall,
lichen-grey and stained with red, experienced one reign after another,
remained standing under storms; the high wide gate has collapsed.
Having Eaten the Red Pill, the Scales then Never Stop Falling from the Eyes
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Commenter Uriel Angeli suggested that a recent comment of mine should be
promoted to a post of its own. In the post to which I added that comment, I
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